


Responsibilities

by ReticentResolve



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Chrom's father is insane, Crossover, Forced Marriage, M/M, Original Character(s), They're hardly even there though after the prologue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11193582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReticentResolve/pseuds/ReticentResolve
Summary: Garon visited Ylisse many years ago, years before he even became a father…Chrom/Xander.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AU, also kind of crackfic. Garon visited Ylisse many years ago, years before he even became a father…Chrom/Xander. I know right?! My mind is just stuck in the gutters. Anyways, in this, the worlds are much more intertwined.
> 
> I'm gonna try something for this fic. I'm gonna put in pictures. If it annoys people, I'll stop, so be sure to let me know.

Prologue.

“What…?” Garon mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose, slightly to his forehead. His last memory was of a boat taken a wrong turn, evidently, the bottom of the cliff they had been headed for was not a rocky fall as he had thought. It was for the better, at least. He had no heir to name to the throne of Nohr as of yet. Though in his defense, he had been named King less than 3 years ago. He had time yet.

  
“Milord?” A familiar voice asks from his right, Garon turning to find one of his two retainers next to him upon the ground, Cullen, a generally Nohrian looking General, half of his armour shed for mobility upon the ship.

 

“Thank goodness you two are up!” The second, higher voice calls, the voice of the Sorcerer, Hamil. He had a bit more Hoshidan ancestry, his hair a light brown. Though it was hard to make out from his position currently entangled in a tree’s branches. “Please help me down! I think my leg’s circulation is permanently damaged!”

  
The king on the ground snorted, quickly rolling his eyes as Cullen moved to cut down Hamil. Luckily, it seemed all their weapons made their way through with them, as Cullen had his axe on hand, and Hamil’s Fimbulvetr was lying on the ground beneath him.

  
Looking around, Garon’s sword was a few feet away from him, one side cutting slightly into the ground.

  
None of this looked familiar at all, not even the kind of tree. It looked slightly like the one’s in Hoshido, but it was the season where they would be in bloom, all the leaves should be pink petals.

  
A loud yelp and thump signified the falling of Hamil from the tree, Cullen chuckling lightly.

  
“Hands up!” A voice shouts, Garon looking slightly to his right to find a man dashing out of the trees, a lance quickly finding it’s way to the tip of his nose. “You are now in custody of the army of Ylisse! Lay down your weapons and come quietly, or face the effects of the royal family’s personal guard!”

  
“Milord!” Hamil yells, snatching his tome from the ground and holding a hand up threateningly, pointing at the brown-haired man who currently had his lance to his liege’s noble visage.

  
“Stand down!” The brown haired man yells, pointing the tip of the lance to Garon’s neck, but looking at his retainers. Were he in a different position, Garon would draw his sword, but as it were, any motion might lead to a messy decapitation.

  
“Back away.” Cullen adds. “You are-“ He stops himself when near a dozen soldiers dive out from the trees, one figure calmly walking behind, ornate silver and blue armour in a style Garon had never seen before.

  
“Were you going to say outnumbered?” Hamil asks sarcastically

  
“You know I was.” Cullen answers, dropping his axe by his side as Hamil does the same with his tome.

  
“You don’t look Plegian.” The clear leader of the group adds on, the one with the ornate armour. “You don’t even look Ylissian.”

  
“Nay.” Cullen answers, raising his head as several soldiers point swords directly to his throat. “You are speaking to the King of Nohr.”

  
“Nohr…?” The leader asks, an almost curious look coming over his stern looking features.

  
“Could that possibly be a providence of Valm?” The original, brown haired soldier asks, only to get a pointed glare from the leader. “Apologies.”

  
“I know the providences of Valm, there is no place by the name of ‘Nohr’.” He answers almost violently before turning back to Garon, the threat of death directly in front of all of the three members of the lost Nohrian group. “Now stop playing games before you outrun my spare time.”

  
“Perhaps you would allow me a question then?” Garon asks, used to speaking formally as such to members of the court.

  
“What.” The leader demands, a sword at Garon’s neck finally drawing blood, much to the ire of his two retainers.

  
“Where are we?”

  
A single blink, and the leader suddenly bursts out in laughter, a rich threatening peal that was almost on the border of being too loud for comfort. “You truly are incompetent, aren’t you?!” He laughs. “I could easily have you executed for such a showing of stupidity to the face of the Exalt of Ylisse.”

  
“Ylisse…” Garon mutters before shaking his head. “Very well, then as you know nothing of Nohr, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the nearest port?”

  
“You ask as if my soldiers are not holding your death in their hands.” The leader says, almost sounding astounded before motioning for the soldiers to drop their weapons. “One wrong move and you head will fly.” He threatens.

  
It seemed as though Hamil wanted to interrupt, but a quick raise of a hand from Garon, and he stood down, his lord rubbing his neck softly.

  
“Your guards claim you’re a King.” The leader asks.

  
“A truthful claim.” Garon answers, voice a bit hoarser than before. “I am Garon, King of Nohr, put on the throne by my father before me.”

  
“And what proof do you have of this claim?”

  
“I suppose it would be an equally appalling insult of me to ask you for proof of your lineage?” Garon asks, a slight glare on his face, though not daring much more, as he was still conscious of the many soldiers around him.

  
“Indeed.” The leader seemed to be loosening up a bit. “Though I would not expect it, as the proof is visible upon my visage.”

  
“I’m afraid you’ll have to point out what that may be…” Garon retorts, starting to get sarcastic at this point, now that his sword was easily accessible to him. He and his retainers had taken out more enemies alone than this before.

  
The guards stiffened around them. “My brand.” The leader says, pointing to the junction of his jaw and neck, where a blue symbol sat, proud against his tan skin. “Now I expect you to return the gesture in kind.” He answers, crossing his arms and obviously not expecting Garon to come up with a symbol of his lineage.

  
“…” Garon does not move for a bit, but then turns slightly to his retainers. “I would guess that my armour is enough. Not many in Nohr can afford much better than unrefined iron. As well as my cloak. Hamil, if you would?”  
The moment Hamil begins moving to his Lord’s side, a lance shoots out, a shallow cut appearing on his arm. But the leader, once again, holds up a hand, the soldier apologizing softly before stepping back and looking as though he would rather currently be drowning in acid.

  
Shaking himself off, Hamil goes around Garon, unclipping the two golden pins from Garon’s armour, releasing his cloak before holding it up to the leader in front of them, showing the symbol on the back.

  
“The Nohrian royal crest, used for over 400 years as a symbol of our militaristic strength and natural prowess.” Garon explains, the leader still not looking convinced. “I suppose it might not be the most convenient of methods to show lineage to one who does not know the Nohrian kingdom, but in Nohr it is an illegal crime for one not of the royal family to be wearing the crest. Punishable by death, as was enforced by my grandfather.”

  
“Very well.” The leader says, though still seems to be speaking sarcastically. “Then you may accompany us to our capital, Ylisstol. It would be bad manners to continue treating a fellow royal in such fashion.”

  
The guards all let their shoulders drop, they were acting as though they feared their own leader more than they did the strange ‘visitors’.

  
“My thanks.” Cullen says, as the final guard removes his sword tip from the small of his back, evidently his armour had intimidated them into a sort of fear, even though Cullen himself was not an intimidating looking man.

  
“You should be honored, arriving at the castle the same day we are to…discuss peace with Plegia.” The leader adds on, the pause in his words giving Garon a sort of unease. There was something wrong with this man. The longer he stayed around him, the more Garon felt in danger.

_________________________

  
The moment Garon entered the castle in Ylisstol, he got a much different feeling than what he had from the city as they were walking through. It was strange being in a hall that was unlike not even Nohr’s palace, but completely unlike even Hoshido’s. It seemed that his retainers were not taking it in much more easily than he himself. Though he supposed anyone would be in a slight state of shock.

  
“Sorry to have made such a…bad impression, Milord.” The brown haired soldier from before adds on, a small child standing slightly behind him, bearing a striking resemblance to the soldier himself, only looking to be a few years of age. “I would lead you to the guest rooms, if you would let me.”

  
“By all means.” Garon responds, trying his best to ignore the small child near sticking to his father as much as he can without actually grabbing hold of him. “We would not find them on our own, I am sure of it.”

  
The more they walked through the halls with the brown haired soldier, the more fascinated Garon became with the country’s style. It truly was a new sort of wonder. More simplistic than both Nohr and Hoshido’s palaces, but with a sort of nice quality.

  
“Frederick, stop staring.” The soldier reprimands swiftly, flicking the boy over his head. Honestly, Garon had not even noticed the child staring at him and his retainers with wide brown eyes.

  
“No skin off our backs, really.” Hamil says, walking a bit lower to the childs eye level. “Stare all you want, i’m sure we’re quite the sight.”

  
“Who…” He attempts to say, but pauses to look to the soldier, who sighs and nods to the child before continuing to lead them on. “Who are you?”

  
“I’m Hamil, a mage and retainer for my lord Garon of Nohr.” He says, motioning to Garon who briefly looks down to the child. He knew he was an intimidating sight to children, with his impressive visage and pitch black hair and half grown beard, he had caused several to run screaming by simply looking at them wrong. “And this is my fellow retainer, Cullen.”

  
Cullen nods down to the child. He, like Garon, seemed much more interested in the castle around them.

  
“I’m Louis, a knight of Ylisse.” The soldier introduces, though does not move to shake any of their hands, though does nod over to them respectfully. “And this is my son, Frederick.”

  
“A pleasure.” Cullen answer, Hamil nodding alongside him.

  
“Indeed.” Garon adds on. “Are we soon to be nearing our…” Garon realizes he does not remember where they are going. “…destination?”

  
“Yes, apologies.” Louis apologizes. “We don’t allow many guests in the castle these days, the guest rooms were moved to the far east side several years ago.”

  
It only took one more right turn before they came to a hallway that only had one servant running along it, a basket of white cloths held firmly in their hands. They stopped for a second, not recognizing the people behind Louis as nobles of Ylisse, before running off where they had just come from.

  
“I believe all of these rooms are empty and fully stocked, though please avoid the first on the left.” Louis instructs.

  
“Why would that be?” Garon asks, mostly out of honest curiosity. Partially out of suspicion.

  
“Please, rest assured it is nothing as sinister as your tone implies.” Louis answers. “The ruler of the neighboring country- Plegia -is coming to negotiate a peace treaty today. The best room must be reserved for him.”

  
“Ah.” Garon says, finding much more sense in that than he thought he would. “Then I wish the best to them.”

  
Louis nods. “I suspect that you will be allowed at the feast, as you are nobility. I will send someone with an outfit for this evening.” He says, a deep bow to Garon before turning away, tiny Frederick lagging for a second to stare up at Garon in awe before running after his father.

  
Garon could not help the soft chuckle that escaped. Seeing this child almost made him wish for an heir.

  
“Sir.” Cullen interrupts, looking to Garon from his one side. “I would suggest we discuss how we are going to return to Nohr.

  
“Ah, yes.” Garon nods in agreement as he and his retainers quickly choose a room at random, going in and getting set up for what they could easily call a mini council.

_________________________

  
“So you stayed.” The Exalt says, undressed from his previous armour, and now in satin robes covered in silver bits of armour, a long golden blade at his side. “A testament, perhaps, to the truthfulness of your words.”

  
“I would suspect so.” Garon responds. “Though it would help if I were able to recognize any landmarks upon your agent’s maps."

"I assure you, my maps are the most accurate in the Halidom.” The Exalt adds on, seeming almost offended.

  
“Without a doubt.” Garon says respectfully, sitting a few chairs from the leader, his retainers sitting in the two chairs around him, shifting in the slightly strange clothes of this kingdom. While they were certainly similar to the clothing in Nohr, they were just different enough to make him uncomfortable. “You have my thanks for assisting in this endeavor.”

  
“I’m sure.” The Exalt adds on cockily, shifting a bit of his blue hair. “And I wanted to discuss something before the Plegians arrive.” He says. The way he said Plegian though, reminded Garon how the Hoshidans spoke of Nohrians.

  
“Naturally.” Garon adds.

  
“You claim your militaristic kingdom holds great pride in their bloodline.” The Exalt says, placing a hand under his chin calmly, and perhaps a bit cockily.

  
“Aye, I believe my great aunt was executed after the discovery that she was illegitimate.” Garon answers. Among noble families, it was almost a thing to brag about when such things happened for the sake of one’s bloodline.

  
“Mm. And such, I believe it would be a beneficial effect to sign a marriage of the future heirs of Ylisse and ‘Nohr’, yes?” The Exalt asks, the question hardly seeming like a question.

  
“I don’t believe it would be wise to agree to such a decision.” Garon respectfully denies. “There is no knowing what sort of backlash might occur in Nohr.”

  
“Very well.” The Exalt says, the whole agreement still seeming sarcastic and untruthful. “I suppose we will have to continue this conversation later. It appears my guests have arrived.”

  
Garon just now notices that the large doors to the main hall had opened, only two figures entering, a tall one, and one that hardly came to the other’s shoulder.

  
The two entering were obviously royalty, though Garon did not believe that they were related, as the tall one had dull black hair, and the shorter one had rustic red. Not to mention the lack of any similar bodily features. The short one was truthfully tiny, even for his short frame, though him wearing skin tight clothing might have assisted in his sickly frame. The tall one, on the other hand, looked muscular and intimidating.

 

"Greetings, Lord Exalt.” The tall one says, the short one looking around warily, looking as though he were sneering at each person his eyes swept over. “I have answered your summons.”

  
“Sit, sit.” The Exalt says, motioning for them to sit across from Garon. “Wonderful to see you again, King Kimmel. And may I ask who your companion is?” He asks, Garon assuming that the tall one with the crown is Kimmel.

  
“This is my new named heir.” Kimmel answers, putting a hand on the short ones tiny shoulder, the short one giving them a wary smile that still looks more like a sneer. “Gangrel.”

  
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gangrel.” The Exalt says, holding out a hand for the tiny man to shake. “I’m sure we’ll have much interaction from here on out.” He says, an eery hint in his voice.

  
Garon would normally not hesitate so in a situation such as this, but as it were, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. He did not feel as though he had a right to get involved in this situation.

  
Suddenly, dozens of servants come rushing out from the several doors to the sides of the hall.

  
“Or rather.” The exalt chuckles. “I’m sure we would, had you not accompanied Kimmel to Ylisse.”

  
Every single servant pulled a bow from behind them, each of them training it on the two royals who suddenly looked much more panicked.

  
“You…you filthy Ylissian bastard!” The tiny one yells, looking ready to lunge at the Exalt, only to have Kimmel’s hand land on his shoulder again.

  
“What is it that you want, Lord Exalt?” Kimmel asks dejectedly, as though he already knew the answer.

  
“You know what I want.” The Exalt answer, evidently having caught onto Kimmel’s knowledge. “I want to see you, and all of Plegia dead and in the ground.”

  
“As expected.” Kimmel sighs, attempting to hand something to Gangrel below the cover of the table. Apparently they had had a plan in case just this had happened, as the moment the levin sword touched Gangrel’s hands, the man went running for the door, and Garon was momentarily impressed by the man’s sheer speed. He had almost made it to the door in a matter of seconds.  
Had it not been for a skilled servants arrow suddenly hitting his back, Garon truthfully thought he would make it. But, as it were, Gangrel fell to the ground, crumpling low into a tiny human puddle.

  
A snap of his fingers, and the rest of the servants released their arrows, at either target they so chose.

  
A minute or so after, and the two Plegian emissaries were lying on the ground, their blood deeply stained into the tiles of the floor, all of the servants long gone from the room, except for the two dragging the Plegians from the room, wincing and honestly looking as though they wished the emissaries were still alive.

  
“Now then.” The Exalt says, turning to Garon with an eery smile that shows a strange depth of character that Garon wished he didn't see. “I believe we had a marriage agreement to write up…?"


	2. Chapter One

From Responsibility Comes Affection.

Chapter One.

“C’mon, Chrom, I know you don’t really want to, but this is a situation that needs to be resolved.”

  
“And the only way to resolve it is me getting married?!” Chrom asks almost sarcastically to his tactician, Robin as they were walking down the hallway. Things had gotten awkward since he made Robin his advisor. The white haired man kept insisting that he needed someone to rule with. “There must be a different way.”

  
“Look Chrom.” Robin adds on. “I’ve really tried to avoid this, but the nobles are demanding for someone to sit on the throne with you! Look.” He says, pulling a piece of paper from his robe. “I found this document in the library, pledging the first born child of another kingdom to you. All we have to do is send them a note, and bring this person here. You don’t have to even talk to them or anything. Just let them sit next to you.”

  
“How…when was that even written?” Chrom asks. “And what kingdom?"

  
“I think your father wrote it up. About 6 years before you were born.” Robin says, showing Chrom the paper. “And some kingdom called ‘Nohr’.”

  
“Huh…” Chrom hums, looking over the paper. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

* * *

 

Garon stared down at the paper that had just then been handed to him from Iago, the tiny advisor peering over his shoulder curiously. Of course he remembered the kingdom of Ylisse he had visited more than two decades ago. Of course he remembered the agreement. But this was all made before he found his lord Anankos, he had nothing to fear from the strange blue haired noble. He did little more than scoff.

  
“If I may, my Lord?” Iago says from where he was awkwardly perched to peer over his shoulder from the other side of the throne. “This document promises the ‘Prince Chrom’ Lord Xander.”

  
“And?” Garon asks, even though he was already getting hold of what Iago was going to suggest.

  
“I must say, Lord Xander had always been a leader. He is the most likely of your children to…let’s say stage a revolution.” Garon nods, looking deeper and deeper into the tiles of his floor. “Perhaps this would be for the best. Lady Camilla can take over for Corrin’s training. Should we remove of Xander to this other realm, it would more than prevent this. Not to mention the nobles never did approve of his direct inheritance to the throne.”

  
A smirk found it’s way onto Garon’s lips quicker and quicker throughout his advisor’s defenses to the removal of Xander from the kingdom of Nohr.

* * *

 

“Prince Xander.” Iago interrupts, coming into the room of the prince to find him violently scrawling words as quickly as he could on papers. Likely more of the military responsibilities that Garon had flung onto him. “King Garon requests your presence. He has something very important to discuss, so I would suggest you hurry.”

  
“Yes, Iago.” Xander says calmly, looking up from his paper, taking the stick of graphite away from the papers for a moment. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

  
Iago nodded and left, leaving Xander with a bit of a question on his tongue as he continues the paper he had just begun writing up. Never had Iago just left with so little fanfare, and so little threats. Apparently it didn’t only stick out to him, as soon Leo entered the room, glancing around.

  
Before he could ask the question Xander knew he was going to though, he answered. “I don’t know what that was about either, Leo. Though I suppose we shall both soon find out, as I assume you and Elise will be listening outside the door?”

  
“You have assumed correctly.” Leo says, a cocky smirk on his lips as he leaves the room once more, Xander shaking his head fondly as he hears a few whispers between him and Elise before the scurrying of two separate pairs of feet.

  
Tapping the stack of papers on the desk, he set them in the clean pile at the left corner of his desk, where they would be picked up by a notary and gone over in ink and water sealed before they were sent out.

  
He was not looking forward to whatever his father had to tell him. After his trip to the rainbow sage a while back, something had changed in him. Suddenly everything Xander did seemed to be wrong, or otherwise incompetent.

  
It had not effected him much to be honest, as Garon had always been distant when it came to his eldest son, disregarding the first 3 years (of which he had very few memories) in which he had been the only child.

  
After making his ways through the dark hallways, and sparing a nod to his spying siblings, Camilla had joined somewhere along the way, and opening the huge double doors to the throne room, only occupied by his father and Iago, the long walk towards acceptable speaking distance tense and full of an air that made Xander uncomfortable.

  
“Father.” He greets, bowing onto one knee.

  
“Rise, Xander.” Garon commands blandly, his son rising, Garon remaining in his throne, though motioning for him to come closer. “I believe I have told you before, about the kingdom of Ylisse?”

  
“I believe it has come up once or twice.” Xander answers. He had not heard the story his father told since he was 7 years old. It always stuck in his mind.

  
Garon then tosses a scroll onto the ground in front of his eldest son, Xander quickly picking it up and reading it as Garon motions for him to do. “You cannot possibly mean to honor this.” Xander says disbelievingly, looking up at his father with the most shocked look he had seen on him in years.  
Xander could not help but notice that Iago seemed to be gloating off to the side.

  
“Yes.” Garon says with a smirk. The one that told Xander all that he needed to know about why his father was doing this. “Xander, you are now betrothed to the Exalt Chrom of Ylisse.”

  
“Unfortunately…” Iago says from Garon’s side. “This will mean that the inheritance will be passed on to Lord Leo.”

  
“WHAT?!” Two voices chorused, Leo bursting in through the door, both sides slamming violently, and Garon seemingly to have expected them to be listening in to this conversation. “Father, you could not possibly expect me to agree to this!” Leo shouts, Camilla and Elise entering after them, both looking very upset.

  
“Father…” Camilla begins, seeming to want to speak up, but still worried about the consequences of such.

  
“You have no right to question my decisions!” Garon shouts to his children, Xander looking more and more dejected by the moment.

  
“I cannot allow this!” Leo shouts, reaching for Brynhildr at his side to find his wrist caught in Xander’s much stronger hand.

  
“Leo, stay your hand.” Xander says calmly, looking much more collected than he did before. “This situation must be resolved as nobles of the Nohrian court should, with dignity and pride.” He turns more to his father. “If this is truly what you wish, Father, then I must oblige.”

  
“Good.” Garon says, his voice getting that scratchy tone. The one that only appeared in the most dangerous of times.

* * *

 

“Chrom, we got a response!” Lissa shouts, having heard of Chrom’s letter to the King of Nohr. “Look, it’s a lot different than how we write things!”

  
“Huh. It really is.” Chrom says, taking the flat piece of paper, much different than the rolled up scrolls that they generally used in Ylisse. It almost reminded him of a one page tome. All of their paper was wrapped together with a wax seal of what he suspected was the Nohrian symbol.

  
Opening the note, Chrom finds two people leaning over his shoulder, his sister Lissa and tactician Robin seeming more invested in this than he is.

  
“Greetings, Prince Chrom, we are glad to inform you that the first born prince, Xander will be sent immediately to the Halidom of Ylisse. His arrival should be taken to be the day after the next, should it not, feel free to hunt for him as you see fit.” Robin reads, stopping at the bottom where there are three signatures, the largest being the kings, evidently named Garon, and the royal advisors’, Iago, and the prince’s own, signed perfectly in a straight line, in sharp flowing print. “Oh dear. I didn’t account for their first born being a male.”

  
“I don’t think that would matter.” Chrom says, looking over to Robin. “Ylisse has had a strict law against any form of discrimination against one’s sexual preference since 5 generations before me. No one will care if the Exalt decides to take a partner of the same sex.”

  
“You are…okay with it?” Robin asks warily.  
Chrom coughs, apparently having picked the worst time to drink a bit of his tea. “Who ever said I would sleep with him?”

  
“Besides that.” Lissa adds from the other side. “I don’t think many people would be glad about it once they figured out you two wouldn’t be able to have a child.”

  
“It’s fine.” Chrom says, waving off her concerns. “I’m sure someone would be willing to carry a child for the Halidom of Ylisse.”

  
“Well, yes.” Robin agrees. “Let us hope this works out well.”

  
Chrom nods, looking down to the tiny bust portrait they had sent with the letter of the prince. A stern face stared to one side, bordered perfectly by pale blonde hair, that made his skin tone seem all the more lighter. On his head sat a tiny, twig thick black crown, and he wore impeccable black, purple and gold armour. Chrom was momentarily lost in his admiration for the other country’s ornate style before he realized that this man, should he have to pick a man to be intimate with, would probably be the first on his list.

* * *

 

“Brother…” Leo says, watching Xander get his horse, in full armour and with Siegfried along his hip, hardly three bags upon both his person and his steeds’ visage. “I’m sorry things have turned out this way.”

  
“Yes…” Camilla says softly, looking extremely upset by this situation. “I want you to let me know when the wedding is at least, Dear.”

She says. “I pledged to be there for all of my darling sibling’s weddings. Even if they are not voluntary.”

  
“I will try, Sister.” He nods. “But do not do anything to anger Father. I worry for you all. And I will never be here to protect you anymore.”

  
“B…Brother!” Elise suddenly sobs, launching herself at Xander’s stomach, trying desperately to wrap her arms around her brother’s midriff. “I don’t want you to have to go!”

  
Xander takes a moment to look at his little sister before returning the embrace, softly wrapping his arms around his little sister. “I would not if I had any choice in the matter, Elise.”

  
A few moments of the sad hug, and they separated, Camilla moving, arms spread out to her older brother. “For old times’ sake, Brother?” She asks sadly.

  
Xander nods before embracing his other sister in like fashion. Taking several moments before letting go and turning to his little brother, wishing that Corrin were here as well. An awkward bit of eye contact, and he holds his hand out to Leo.

  
“You daft fool.” Leo mutters, slapping Xander’s hand away, rushing forward and wrapping his arms a bit too hardly around Xander’s shoulders, Xander hardly able to react before Leo moves away. “You better not get yourself killed out there. I expect for what I just did to be used as blackmail later.”

  
Xander can hardly look at his family anymore, almost finding tears coming to his eyes. His whole life was being snatched away from him. “I will return, my family. I promise you that. I will not let an obstacle such as this stand between us. Our bonds run deeper than Father could ever separate.”

  
“You’d better.” Camilla says, looking a bit threatening. “I’m not looking forward to telling Corrin about this. He’ll surely be very upset…”

  
A last shared, sad smile between the family, and they separate, Xander riding his horse off to the horizon, and the other three returning to the castle.

* * *

 

Once he took a step back…once everything was said and done with, Xander could not help but admire the new place he had stepped into after almost a day of travel through Nohr. It was a quite handsome place, much different than the cold barren landscape of Nohr he called home. Even the short amount of sun he had been in on this side seemed to be hurting his skin, burning it even.

  
It was a very forested place he came to learn, and luckily he could easily avoid place of too bright sunlight. He had only passed by a few people, but from what he could see, they were entirely their own type of race, much more diverse than Hoshidans and Nohrians were individually, as it seemed there were many different skin tones and hair colors.  
It was a relief, really, to be in a country like this. But it also made him angry. Why were the Nohrians cursed because of their bloodlines to a life of poverty and starvation? Why were the people of Hoshido made fat by their prosperity while the people of Nohr literally decayed as they lived?

  
He supposed it was some type of cruel joke. The gods were just playing him, him and the rest of Nohr. ‘Testing their faith’ as someone of more prosperity would say.

  
Xander couldn’t help but smirk when several bandits attempted to surround him, making such noise that all he had to do was follow where his horse’s ears were pointing. He felt like they didn’t deal with people with his training often.

  
“Get ‘im, boys!” A voice yells when he comes to the top of the hill, Xander immediately pressing his horse to jump out of the way of the two clumsy axes flying towards him. With a single turn and the raise of his sword, a bandit lay dead, a large hole in his chest where Siegfried’s laser had pierced him.

  
“Distance will not save you here.” Xander remarks tauntingly, and the bandits actually seemed to pause a moment, staring down at their bleeding ally.

  
But that does not last long. They all begin charging, something Xander had not planned on. They may be pathetically weak and undertrained, but there were a good dozen or so. Even the best of warriors may fall when faced with such adversity.

  
With no time to waste, Xander sent another laser to a barbarian on his left before quickly twisting his blade to parry a thief on his right. His horse whinnied a bit, and Xander allowed him to rear up, some of the bandits backing up in fear of being pummeled.

  
It took three more strikes from the bandits before Xander found blood seeping through his armour, from an arrow diligently shot in the area between his armour and his collarbone. He briefly thanked the Gods that it was far enough south to not kill him.  
Suddenly, Xander found himself being pushed back a bit, his horse being pushed against a mossy cliff that had previously been unnoticed. The moment he started to worry, a huge figure appeared over the horizon, a stern voice shouting out as a horseman made his way down the hill.

  
“Pick a god and pray!” He roared as a silver and blue lance was pierced through a bandit’s chest.

  
Xander was frozen for a moment, looking purely shocked at the sudden aid. He nodded a quick thanks - one that the Great Knight next to him returned in kind.

  
No more words were exchanged until all of the bandits lay at their horses feet. After which they both got off of their steeds.

  
Xander held out his hand. “My thanks, Sir. Your assistance is highly appreciated.”

  
The brown haired and eyed man nodded his response once more, moving rather deftly for having the enormous blue armour on. “You are welcome, Prince Xander.”

  
Xander almost flinched. He had expected to not be recognized. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?” He asks suspiciously.

  
“I am Frederick, a knight under the halidom of Ylisse, and servant to Milord Chrom.” He answers with a bow at his waist. “I was made to search for you to show you to the capital. If you would please move at my side, and keep your hands on your reigns?”

  
Xander almost scoffed when he realized that this Frederick did not trust him at all. He supposed it was also kind of a natural reaction. He had no idea what type of kingdom he had come from. He would abide by this knight’s rules for now. Best to make a good impression. “Very well.” He answers, sheathing Siegfried at his side and getting back on his horse, taking a brief moment to snap off the tail end of the arrow stuck in his chest. It was not deep. He would deal with it for now.

  
Though he did hope that the capital was not far off.


	3. Chapter Two.

From Responsibility Comes Affection.  
Chapter 2.

Chrom yawns loudly as he sits on his newly acquired throne. He had recently been roused by Robin in his tactician’s eagerness for him to meet his new fiancee, despite the fact that they had planned a large breakfast for their new guest. He was confused. Why was his tactician so much more excited for this than he? The man who was meeting the one he was to be wed to?

  
Robin had muttered something about wanting to know the man’s skills, and had wandered off.

  
Looking out the large window boredly, Chrom noted that Frederick and the man whose name he couldn’t remember should be arriving any minute if his previous journeys to the dragon gate were any indication.

  
Lissa gives a similar yawn, rubbing her eyes but still managing to walk perkily while behind Robin. Seems she was even more excited than Robin if she were willing to be up at this hour.

  
“Oh, speak of the devil.” Robin continues a previously unheard conversation as the large doors to the throne room open, Frederick walking in dutifully with a blonde man walking behind him.

  
“Milord.” Frederick says simply with a small bow, but does nothing to introduce the man behind him as he normally would for a visiting noble. A clear sign that he did not approve of the newcomer. Though he hardly ever did.

  
“Good morning, Frederick.” Chrom says, standing from the throne and walking forward a bit to stand about a meter from his future husband. “And a pleasure to meet you prince…” Chrom trails off, embarrassed with himself for forgetting the name of such an important figure in his upcoming life.

  
“Xander.” The blonde responds in a stiff and regal voice, walking a bit closer to Chrom to offer his hand. Something Frederick obviously disapproves of. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

  
Chrom smiles, glad that Xander was able to speak the same tongue as them. He took the calloused hand in his own, again glad when he could feel the strong grip of one used to wielding a blade. Gods know what he would do if he were to accidentally married to some pish and posh noble. 

  
One thing that threw him off though, was the sheer height of the man in front of him as they broke grips. He seemed to be a few inches taller than Frederick, who on his own towered above his lord. He hoped that the people of Ylisse would be welcoming. His new fiancee cut quite the intimidating figure with his pitch black armour.

  
“This is my tactician, Robin.” Chrom offers, Robin stepping forward to shake the Prince’s hand, which he accepted without a word. “And my little sister, Lissa.”

  
“It’s great to meet you!” Lissa says a bit loudly, as it seems to break the foreign prince out of a sort of reverie. “I can’t believe i’m going to be getting a whole new brother! Just don’t be a meany face like Chrom, okay.”

  
Xander’s face fell a bit, and Lissa couldn’t help but wonder if she had said something wrong. What’d she do?

  
“You’re wounded.” Robin brings up suddenly, standing on his tip toes to better examine the arrow imbedded in Xander’s shoulder.

  
“What happened?” Chrom asks rather abruptly.

  
“A simple case of barbarians.” Frederick replies. “I helped the lord Xander out of said situation immediately after his injury.”

  
“You did nothing to mend his wound?” Chrom asks. He knew Frederick would likely have some sort of grudge against Xander for a while. He normally did with newcomers, but this was a prince with a arrow in his shoulder.

  
“I thought it best to return to the capital prior to dressing his wound, milord.” Frederick replies.

  
“It is nothing to concern yourself with.” Xander interrupts as Chrom seems to want to say more. “I have weathered through much more for much longer. It is a simple flesh wound.”

  
“Nevertheless.” Robin adds in. “Lissa, could you please fetch your stave?”

  
“Of course.” Lissa responds cheerfully. Anything she could do to get to know her new family member, the better.

  
“We are having the servants prepare breakfast as we speak.” Robin adds on after. “If you would like, Chrom was about to start his morning training. You could spectate, and i’ll send Lissa down in a bit.”

  
Chrom was almost ready to panic. He wasn’t the cleanest trainer. He often broke things, and was just as likely to make a fool out of himself. And with Xander’s stern calculating gaze on him, he wasn’t sure if he could keep his cool.

  
“Very well.” Xander agrees complacently. “I look forward to seeing what you are capable of, Ser Chrom.”

  
“Ah…yes.” Chrom responds nervously. “Perhaps once you get the okay from Lissa you can join as well.”

  
“Perhaps.” Xander responds. “We’ll see.”

* * *

  
Chrom was sweating bullets, trying his very best to swing his sword accurately and strongly as Xander watched, arms crossed and brows low as Lissa held her stave over his shoulder from where he sat.

  
“Okay, you’re good to go.” Lissa says, standing up and smiling at Xander. “You can train if you want.”

  
“You have my thanks.” Xander says stiffly as Lissa takes a few steps back, Chrom watching as Xander stands, hand coming to rest on the large hilt by his side.

  
“What say you, Xander?” Chrom asks as he readies his falchion. “A friendly spar before breakfast?”

  
“Very well.” Xander says, drawing his large sword from it’s sheath, Chrom watching with curiosity and a bit of admiration. The sword was much heftier than the falchion, and held a strange red glow about it. “I will warn you, my blade is not one to be taken lightly.”

  
“Neither is the falchion.” Chrom japes friendily. He sure hoped he wasn’t getting ahead of himself here, as Xander was not returning the favour.

  
Xander’s stance was a bit strange, as though he did not often fight on the ground. “You fight mounted?”

  
“Impressive that you would notice.” Xander praises, though does not have much of a positive inflection to his voice. “Yes, I am a paladin of Nohr.”

  
He doesn’t seem to want to converse any more, as he soon bares his blade at Chrom. “Come then.”

  
Chrom doesn’t need any more, he dashes forward, only to have his light strike blocked by the flat of the large sword, a slight crackling energy jerking around it and the falchion, Chrom jerking back just as Xander strikes back. Chrom slips back, the large sword cutting a slight path into the ground where he just was.

  
At the very least, his new betrothed was skilled with the blade, as he was making abundantly clear.

* * *

 

“Ah, welcome back.” Robin gets cheerfully as Chrom and Xander enter the dining hall of the castle, Chrom looking much more at ease than he had before, while Xander upheld the same straight backed walk, Hands swaying only the slightest bit as he walked.

  
“We meet again, Sir Robin.” Xander greets courteously, a small dip of his upper body originating from his waist. A strange sight, really, but Robin figured it was the same as the knee Frederick always made sure to take around Chrom.

  
“No need for the formalities.” Robin chuckles as Chrom and Xander sit by the table, Xander sitting strangely close to Lissa. “You are a prince after all.”

  
“Hardly. I have been given away from my kingdom.” Xander says in a correcting tone. “I believe that relinquishes my title.”

  
“Indeed.” Frederick agrees rather rudely from his position standing over the table. “Though I suppose you will soon have a new title to replace the one you lost.” He adds when Robin glances at him disapprovingly.

  
Xander hums softly, looking down at his lap, contemplation heavy on his face. Lissa looks over kind of obliviously.

  
“Don't worry, Ylisse is a great country!” She comforts with a big smile on her face. “We've got all kinds of festivals planned for this summer! It'll be the perfect time for you to get to know the country.”

  
“Indeed.” Robin agrees whole heatedly, warmly remembering his first time visiting Ylisse. “But we do have the wedding in a few weeks. I think it might be well for Xander to stay from the public eye until then.”

  
“A few weeks?!” Chrom asks loudly, rising hallway from his chair to place his hands on the table. “Just how long have you been planning this, Robin?”

  
“I… Might have been given a deadline…” Robin responds. “They promised some very…graphic things.”

  
Chrom sighs and sits back down as Xander rests his head in his hand. “When exactly do you have this planned?”

  
“May 21st.” Robin answers with a relieved smile.

  
“I thought you said a few weeks.” Xander says dryly. “May 21st is in 10 days.”

  
“…” Robin pauses. He had claimed weeks to try and curb any anger Chrom might have felt. “So it is.”

  
“…” Xander sighs and shakes his head. Luckily for this tactician he was not easily angered. “I have some letters to send.”

  
“Of course.” Robin agrees amicably. “I'm sure that'll be fine. Right Chrom?”

  
“Yes, bring anyone you wish. We definitely have enough space.” Chrom says nervously. This fellow prince had his nerves frayed. Something about his was so intimidating. Maybe it was that dark glare like gaze. Maybe it was the way he held himself. Even as he sat his back was straight as a rod and he hasn't wavered since he first sat.

  
“You have my thanks.” Xander bows slightly as several servants come from the side room. Only about three, each carrying a large platter.

  
They set them a clean amount between each member at the table, a final one placing plates in front of each as well as impeccable silverware. They set one extra down, the servant glancing at Frederick.

  
“Come now Frederick, sit down and eat.” Chrom suggests with a smile.

  
Strange. In Nohr, Xander was very used to watching the executions of servants for little more than speaking directly to his father. It was refreshing, but also kind of off putting.

  
“I would rather not, milord.” Frederick answers, giving a pointed look towards Xander, not bothering to hide it at all. “It is not my place to sit at the royal table.”

  
“Nonsense.” Chrom rerimends, standing and tugging out the chair next to him. “Sit down. We don't serve bear at the castle.”

  
A tiny sigh, and Frederick sat down with them. “By the way, Chrom. You and I have to meet with the nobles then to inform them of the planned marriage.” Robin adds.

  
Chrom nods in agreement, a bit too concentrated on the egg dish in front of him.  
“Perhaps you would like to introduce Xander to the rest, Lissa?” Robin asks, knowing Lissa would be delighted to spend more time with her soon to be brother.

  
“Course!” Lissa responds giddily. “This’ll be great! Well head over right after breakfast, Kay?”

  
“I would prefer to send my mail as soon as possible.” Xander replies simply.

  
“Oh.” His answer seems to take a bit of the wind out of Lissa's sails. “Well, I'll help you then! That'll make it go twice as fast, right?”

  
Despite his current unfortunate situation, Xander finds his scowl lifting a bit.

* * *

 

“Where's Xander?” A small teen with Ivory hair and pink eyes as, looking up at Camilla with a cocked head and a small smile.

  
Camilla paused. It was the moment she had been dreading. After their father’s order for Xander to train Corrin, the cold had grown so much more attached to him. “I'm afraid…big brother won't be coming back.”

  
“Why?” Corrin with that pure little voice, nothing but curiosity present.

  
“He had to go far away. And he has to stay there for a long time.” She knew she was talking to him a bit strangely for a 16 year old child. But this was her precious little Corrin, and this was the only way she would ever tell him something like this.

  
“So…when’s he coming back?” Corrin asks, obviously still confused.

  
“He might never come back, dear Corrin.” Camilla says softy.

  
“But…” Corrin tries to justify, but stops as tears start welling in his eyes. He had never had to deal with much loss before.

  
“Oh…” Camilla murmurs softly, taking Corrin safely in her arms and choking back the anger she felt towards Xander for making her sweet little Corrin cry. “It's okay, little brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Wow, not much happened, huh? Sorry bout that. Also, please don't expect updates to happen this quickly always. I had 2 and a half chapters written from the get go. From now on, they're all written fresh…is that the right word for this?
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Those really made my day. ^-^
> 
> And I think I'll be taking out the pictures. Since only one person really voted. If I make any from now on, they'll be posted on DeviantArt.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
> Oh my god, so that took a while. So just letting you know, no Gangrel is not dead, everything is going as planned in the story, in both Awakening and Fates, Garon gets back to Nohr and makes all of his kids, this is just a sort of ‘hey, this is what happened way back when’. Next chapter will take place just after Gangrel’s defeat in Awakening, but before anything goes down in Fates.


End file.
